


Flight to Freedom

by Hanna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age 2
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanna/pseuds/Hanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leto spent his whole life trying to keep his sister out of the Circle, but since they took Varania away he had no idea what to do with himself.</p>
<p>It was Varric who brought him into the expedition to the Deep Roads and gave him the job- a lyrium smuggler called Anso seeking to recover his lost product. But instead he found a woman with lyrium tattoos named Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight to Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing my proud tradition of fucking with canon for no reason at all!
> 
> I've been working on this for a while, and I'm writing a part 2 which I will post when I finish it:) Her slave name, Meavem, is Latin I probably butchered to pieces that is meant to mean 'my bird' because Danarius enjoys reducing his slaves to animals, apparently.
> 
> The full story of how Hawke got to Tevinter to be a slave in the first place probably won't end up written out in the story due to her having, you know, no memory of the events, but I've got a few drabbles/ficlets of her time in Tevinter written out and I'm gonna put the story in a note at the bottom.

Leto was good with a blade, but even with Varric and his crossbow he’d have trouble taking out this many people.

The Alienage was filled with men and woman staring at the abandoned house they had come from and he reached for his sword, gripped the hilt to reassure himself that he wasn’t defenceless. Finally the leader spoke.

“That’s not her,” she said. Her? They were looking for someone else? Maybe they’d actually get out of this alive.

“Doesn’t matter,” a man said. “Anyone who came out of the house, he said.”

“Right,” the woman said with a nod. “Attack!”

It was chaotic. He was vaguely aware of Varric trying to get far enough away to make good use of Bianca but was too busy fending off the men attacking him. Their armour was leather and thus not much of a problem to him, and the reach of his blade allowed him to hit more than one at a time, but there were so _many_.

He was only aware another combatant had entered the fray when one of the men dropped dead beside him with a dagger in his throat.

When it was finally over he turned to see first if Varric was alright and then to find this mystery dagger-thrower. Varric was, it turned out, alright even if he was chugging a health potion- he gave him a thumbs up when he started towards him in concern- so he looked for their helper.

She was looting the bodies, tucking their coins in her pack, and wore armour that was clearly made for her. Her gauntlets were fingerless and went to her elbow but he could see winding white tattoos going up her arm that probably continued down under them. Her armour exposed her midriff, where the trunk of a stylised tree started, branches extending up under her armour as part of what was clearly a larger design. They continued up her face, vines curling onto her cheeks and ending tucked behind her ears. She perched on the balls of her feet and he had the impression she was ready to move at any given time. She had a dagger on each hip and a pouch that was clearly meant to carry throwing daggers that was now empty. Lock picking tools were on the other side of her belt, a fine set.

She coughed lightly and he coloured when he realised that she was watching him stare at her.

“They’re something, aren’t they?” she asked and her accent was strange; he could hear the soldiers they had slain in it but also by-now-familiar Ferelden tones. She rose gracefully, hand clenched into a half-fist. Despite the lightness of her tone her lips were tight and her brow was drawn in.

“Uh,” he said, “I’m sorry for staring.” She waved him off.

“The armour was designed for that.” There was a slightly bitter note in her voice. “I’m sorry about the deception. My name is Meavem and these fine gentlemen,” she gestured to the bodies surrounding them, “were trying to recover a magister’s lost property.” She gestured rather unnecessarily at herself. Varric was counting the corpses.

“A lot of effort for one slave,” he said, eyeing her curiously. Her smile was humourless.

“Yes it is,” she agreed.

“Does this have something to do with your markings?” Leto asked. She glanced down at them again.

“It does, in fact. They’re not something I chose to have burned into my flesh forevermore but they have their uses, I admit.” She paused. “I didn’t expect there to be so _many_ hunters when I asked Anso for assistance.” The corner of her lip lifted a little. “Or rather, paid him- and I apologise for putting you in such danger. You seemed to handle yourself well, though.” She looked at him and his sword with interest. “A fine weapon.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I try to keep it in good shape.” She nodded approvingly but they were interrupted before anything else could be said.

“There’s the slave!” a man said. “Men, to me!”

“Dammit,” she cursed. “Knew I missed someone.” She stepped forward and so did he, matching her step for step. “They’re not coming. Tuck your tail between your legs and run home.”

“You’re going nowhere, _slave_.” The man’s hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder and she reacted faster than Leto believed possible. She whirled around, the markings flared up and she reached forward- _into_ his chest-

“I am no slave,” she hissed and when she withdrew her hand a gaping hole was left behind in his chest and his heart was in her hand. Both Leto and Varric stared at her and she dropped it, wiped the blood off on her armour.

“I _said_ they had their uses,” she said as she bent to search the man’s pockets. “Ah! He’s still here.” Her eyes gleamed in a thoroughly disturbing way. “I must ask a favour, if I may. The man who gave me these is in the city right now. I will pay you properly later, I promise. Please- come with me.” There was uncertainty in her eyes, though not her tone, which was as steady as ever.

“I assume you mean to tear his heart out with that weird thing you just did rather than talk,” Varric said. She gave him a hard smile.

“That is _precisely_ what I mean.”

Varania was caught by the Templars when she had agreed to heal the neighbour’s daughter. Leto really should stop getting involved in other people’s business.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll help.”

XX

The mansion she led them to did not fit alongside its grand neighbours. It clearly had seen no love in a few years at least and Leto amused himself for a moment by imagining how the other nobles must feel about it.

“So who is this man?” he asked when they were outside the door.

“Danarius. A magister of the Tevinter Imperium,” she said and he blanched.

“Oh,” Varric said, “Nothing big then.” Her smile was frightening.

“I can’t touch him there,” she said, “I’d be hauled back in a heartbeat if I so much as set foot in Minrathous again with him living, but here…”

“Well,” Leto said with a deep breath, “Nothing for it but to go inside I guess.”

It was less amusing when it proved to be filled with demons but no magister. He was nearly hit a few times watching Meavem fight, light up with an otherworldly glow and in the next moment be on the other side of the battlefield. It was incredible.

“Pick your jaw up and stop staring at her,” Varric yelled at him the second time he took out a shade that was coming too close to him and he went pink. He focused on the fight after that.

When they had scoured the mansion thoroughly with no signs of this magister Meavem let loose a truly scathing series of what were clearly curses by her tone. Varric whistled, impressed.

“Two years,” she spat, “Two years and I miss him by _this much_ … please rob him blind, I won’t stop you.” And then she stormed out.

Varric took her up on the offer but Leto followed her out. She was leaning against the wall breathing heavily, eyes closed. Without looking up she held out her hand, a number of coins in it- mostly silver, some bronze and a single sovereign.

“All the coin I have,” she said and finally opened her eyes. “I understand if you don’t want to hang around with me but I’m staying, at least for the moment. Catch my breath. I will not forget that I owe you. If you want my help, come and ask. I’ll be… cleaning the place up.” She made a face.

“Actually, I’m going on an expedition to the Deep Roads,” Leto said. “Could use an extra blade.” He glanced at her daggers. “Or two,” he amended and she chuckled.

“Alright then,” she said. “Just give me a few days to at least get rid of the bodies, yeah? Or maybe a hand would be better.” He laughed at that and the door opened behind them; Varric came out with a chest tucked under his arm, presumably his plunder. “Find anything good in there, dwarf?”

“Yep,” he said, tossing her a couple of sovereigns. She caught them one handed. The silver and copper he placed in her open hand. “Your master’s place, your money.”

“Ex master,” she corrected him. “Come on over tomorrow or something, if you want,” she told Leto. “Should have the bodies gone by then. Thank you for the help,” she said again, handing the sovereigns to Leto; he gave them back. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

“You play Wicked Grace?” Varric asked.

“Bluffing wasn’t exactly what Danarius used me for, you know,” she said dryly. Varric’s grin widened.

“Excellent. Come down to the Hanged Man.”

“Good _night_ ,” she said with a laugh as she walked back into the mansion and shut the door behind her.

“Maybe she’s worse than you, kid,” Varric told Leto as they headed back to Lowtown.

XX

The next day Leto knocked on the door of the mansion and, when that produced no answer, opened it. It wasn’t locked and he had an invitation after all.

The bodies were in fact gone, and that made the place look immediately better. He ran through the mental map he’d made of the place and then headed for what had seemed to be Danarius’s study.

It was standing open and she was staring into the fire, hands clasped behind her back. He cleared his throat and she turned to him.

“Oh! Leto.” She stepped away from the fire. “Please, come in. Thank you again, for your help. I wasn’t actually expecting you to come by. Please, sit.” A bottle of wine was on the low table.

“I’m short on friends,” he admitted as he sat. “Spent most of my time protecting my sister, and now…” Meavem frowned at him.

“What happened?”

“The Templars took her,” he explained. “A few months ago. It’s why I’m on this expedition. Something to do. It was just me and Varania and without her…” the house was so empty now. It had always been crowded with the three of them, and after Mother died it was no better. The alienage houses were tiny. He’d often cursed Varania and her belongings getting in the way. He wanted nothing more than her back now.

“Once your reason for living is gone, what do you do?” There was understanding in Meavem voice.

“Exactly.” They sat in silence for a time and she poured them both wine without asking if he wanted it. It was rich and he drank it slowly.

“Danarius had me serve this at his table,” she said, contemplating the bottle. “Said my appearance intimidated his guests.” She snorted. “He wasn’t wrong either. Nothing the elite like less than a slave with the power to crush them.” She shook her head.

“I can’t imagine why they’d be intimidated,” Leto said totally honestly. She laughed.

“You can’t?” she asked. “I guess they’re pretty enough.” She held up her arm and without her armour on he could see the pattern did continue all the way to her wrist and back of her hand. She gave him a sideways look. “But I assume you think they’re more than pretty _enough_.” Leto nearly choked on his wine and hurriedly put the glass down as he hurried to look anywhere but at her.

“So, you said you were staying,” he said in a desperate attempt to change the subject and she suddenly looked so _tired_.

“I’ve been on the run for three years, Leto,” she said. “No matter how far I get, where I go, he always finds me. This is the first time I’ve given him pause.” She shook her head. “I can’t promise to always be here but until he finds me again, I will be.” Leto held her gaze, smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said and she smiled back at him.

“Maybe I’ll find a reason to stay,” she said and he felt his blush deepen.

XX

She did come down to the Hanged Man two nights later, to Varric’s delight. But it turned out that she was, in fact, an excellent bluffer. They had to teach her the rules to Wicked Grace and she lost a fair amount of coin while learning them but once she picked it up she wiped the floor with them with a _spectacular_ bluff.

“I thought you said you were bad at this!” Varric said, mournfully watching her collect two sovereigns and a number of silver pieces from him. Her grin was wolfish.

“I said he never used me to bluff,” she corrected him. “What he _did_ use me for was to intimidate his rivals and enemies. Nothing is more intimidating than showing absolutely no emotion, even as you kill someone.”

Leto laughed. She had beaten him thoroughly too, but he was used to that- he was awful at Wicked Grace. It was worth it to see Varric taken down a peg.

“I’m kicking you out of the expedition if you don’t stop laughing at me kid,” Varric threatened him.

“You won’t,” Meavem scoffed. “Just like you won’t be able to stop yourself from putting your last silvers on this in a desperate attempt to reclaim your dignity.”

With a huff Varric did indeed deal the cards again and put his last coins in the pot.

XX

It was custom for Leto to go to Varric in the morning and see if he had any new jobs, but now he went to Meavem after. It was a long walk to Hightown but he enjoyed seeing her and she was handy in a fight. She could pick locks better than even Varric, not that Varric would admit it.

“It’s cheating to use the lyrium,” he grumbled at her when she picked a lock he couldn’t. She laughed.

“Keep telling yourself that’s what I’m doing, dwarf,” she said. “Just keep lying to yourself.”

“How would _you_ feel if I just called you ‘human’?” Varric asked.

“If you called every human ‘human’ I’d have no idea who you were talking about,” Leto said dryly.

“Exactly,” she said cheerfully. “Why _don’t_ I have a nickname, anyway?” She looked vaguely affronted. Varric narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m pretty sure you’d stick your hand through me if I gave you one you didn’t like,” he said dryly.

“Only to scare you, dwarf,” she said. “Only to scare you.”

XX

“Varric says we need maps of the Deep Roads to find an entrance,” Leto said. Meavem turned to the dwarf with some incredulity.

“You’re planning an expedition and you _don’t_ have maps?” she asked. “Maker, dwarf.” Varric crossed his arms over his chest in mock-hurt.

“We _did_ have an entrance,” he said. “Turns out it’s collapsed, and now we’ve got a whole expedition with nowhere to go.” She snorted.

“Right then,” she said. “So any ideas where to _find_ maps? I don’t have any Deep Roads maps lying around and I’m not sure even _you_ could just pluck them out of the air.”

“Ye of little faith,” Varric sighed. “I could pluck _anything_ out of the air. Including a Grey Warden, who will hopefully have maps.”

“There’s no Blight you know, not anymore,” she said dryly. “And those aren’t casually handed out amongst even the Wardens.”

“There’s a place in Lowtown,” Leto said, cutting the both of them off. “A woman called Lirene knows where he is.”

“You’re no fun,” she complained to Leto. “Alright, just let me get my armour on. Come on in if you want.” They followed her in and she disappeared ahead of them. Varric looked around as they waited.

“Huh. The place looks kind of respectable without the corpses,” he said. “And she’s even straightened the paintings! Will you look at that.”

“The corpses went the first night,” Leto told him. “I didn’t ask where.”

“So you _did_ visit then.” Varric winked and Leto punched him in the arm.

“Jealous, dwarf?” Meavem asked as she bumped her hip against Leto’s. Varric laughed as Leto went pink.

“I’m already spoken for,” he informed her.

“Ah yes, the crossbow.” Tucking her daggers in their sheaths she added, “I bet she tops.” Leto couldn’t help his laugh.

XX

Though her Tevene accent was more dominant than her Ferelden one, surrounded by Fereldens in Lirene’s shop it was clear that Meavem had at least spent a lot of time in Ferelden once. It took some convincing to get Lirene to tell them where the Warden- Anders, who was a healer and an apostate apparently- was, and when they exited the shop they were confronted by Ferelden refugees.

“We know what happens to apostates in this city,” the man in the lead said. “We won’t let you turn him into the blighted Templars.”

“Put him in a Circle where mages belong? Maker forbid,” Meavem said, voice hard, and they attacked. After they were dead and relieved of their coin they continued, looking furtively around for guards, to Darktown.

“We _aren’t_ turning him in until we get those maps,” Varric said. “Right?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But we _will_ turn him in after we do, right?”

They were interrupted by a guard. The orange of her uniform clashed horribly with her red hair and she crossed her arms over her chest. Curiously for a guard she wielded a Templar shield.

“Running away from the scene?” she asked. She was clearly Ferelden- another unusual thing for a city guard.

“They attacked us,” Leto said quickly. “We were defending ourselves.” Meavem’s head was up proudly and her arms were also crossed. The woman met her gaze and blinked twice, frowned.

“I see,” she said. “And you had to kill them all?”

“We let the ones who run away go,” Meavem said and Varric sighed.

“Guardswoman,” he said. “This was all a misunderstanding.” She stepped closer to them, eyes on Varric now.

“Stop it,” Leto hissed to Meavem. “We swear, they attacked us without cause. _Meavem, stop_.” Finally Meavem stepped back and let her arms fall to her side, though her eyes were hard and the guard sighed, rubbed a hand over her face. Her gaze returned to Meavem again but this time it was searching.

“Are you Ferelden?” she asked. Meavem narrowed her eyes at her.

“Why?” she asked shortly. The guard shook her head.

“I must be mistaken,” she said. “Fine. Go about your business but I’ll be watching you.”

Varric was looking between the guard and Meavem.

“What was that about?” he asked and Leto, also looking between them for a moment, shrugged.

“Not a clue. Did you know her?” he asked and Meavem shook her head.

“No,” she said and looked back uneasily. There was a pause.

“So, _are_ you Ferelden?” Varric asked.

“That’s what he told me,” she said.

“Told you,” Varric repeated curiously. Meavem’s eyes went hard and her fist clenched.

“He liked to mock me with things that he thought I should know. One day out of the blue he said ‘you’re Ferelden, you know’. I think he was hoping to shock me into breaking the rules and asking questions but I was too well trained for that.” Her lip curled. “I stood behind him and said ‘yes, Master’ and offered to refill his wine and he laughed.” Varric sucked in a breath.

“He sounds horrible,” Leto murmured and her gaze turned bleak.

“I didn’t know anything else,” she said. “I certainly don’t remember Ferelden, if indeed I do come from there.” Varric frowned and Leto opened his mouth. “The ritual that gave me these wiped everything I was,” she explained. “Whoever I was before, she’s dead.” She glanced back at the guard with a frown. “Whoever I might have known before are strangers to me.”

“Well, shit,” Varric said.

“I’m sorry?” Leto offered. It seemed like such a small thing, inadequate, but she let out a breath. A weight seemed to have been taken off her shoulders.

“…thank you,” she said finally, quietly.

Behind them, the guard finally moved on.

XX

Darktown was, true to its name, dark. It also stank.

“Ugh, I never like coming down here,” Varric said. “Let’s just find this Warden and be done with it.” Meavem skirted a pile of shit and made a face.

“I should have known. As soon as I heard the name _Darktown_ …” She wrinkled her nose. “I swear, if I never spend another second in a slum I’ll die happy.”

“Darktown isn’t _that_ bad,” Varric protested. “You can’t judge all slums based on it.” Leto gave a sympathetic look to the Fereldens watching them, and touched his sword hilt in warning.

“I’m not. You don’t think you stay on the run by living in Hightown mansions everywhere you go? Unless you’re a worse writer than I’ve heard…”

“Excuse me, madam!” Varric protested, chest puffing up and she laughed.

“The lit lantern,” Leto said, moving forwards. “Come on.”

They had to fend of attacks from desperate Fereldens twice, but eventually found themselves outside a boarded up room. It was surprisingly large for Darktown, with two doors, and there was a lantern above one of them- also a rarity for Darktown.

“I’d say this is it,” Meavem said. A nearby refugee looked suspiciously at them. “Come on.” She entered without bothering to knock; Varric knocked on the open door hastily before following her.

It didn’t matter. The Warden Anders didn’t notice them, focused entirely on the boy he was healing, magic streaming from his hands. His assistant tensed on seeing them but kept his focus on Anders. The boy gasped all of a sudden, colour returning to his cheeks, and his grateful mother held him close as Anders stumbled. His assistant steadied him. Meavem kept her eyes away from the magic, looking distinctly uncomfortable, hands gripping her daggers tightly.

That was when the mage noticed them. Blue fire blazed to life under his skin.

“How dare you threaten this place?” he boomed. “I have made this a sanctuary for healing!”

Leto could see Meavem was about to do something very foolish and stepped forward.

“We aren’t threatening you!” he said to both Meavem and Anders. “Please, we just want to talk.”

XX

It took a long time to get Meavem to agree to rescue Karl, and even longer for her to agree to work with Anders.

“He’s an abomination!” she cried. “You saw him.” Leto scowled a little at the memory. Mages like that were the reason Varania had to hide all her life.

“I did,” he said. “We need his maps, though. After that we never have to speak to him again.” Meavem paced restlessly across the clinic.

“Fine by me,” Anders said and Leto glared at him.

“You, _shut up_ ,” Meavem growled but she wasn’t attacking him, which was an improvement. “Fine. I’ll help for his blighted maps.”

Anders spoke then, causing Leto to give him an exasperated look- did he _want_ trouble? He snorted at his own question; of course he did. Why else would he be stealing a mage away from the Gallows?

“Much obliged,” he drawled and Meavem stormed out.

XX

“Meavem,” Leto said as they waited for night to fall. She didn’t look at him. “Meavem.”

“Leto,” she said, voice clipped, “I promise not to stab him in the back. Ask no more of me.” Leto moved forward and lay a hand gently on her arm; she jerked away but not before he felt how tense she was.

“You couldn’t look at the magic,” he said. “The healing magic.” She said nothing. “Does it have something to do with your markings? Your ex-master?” She stiffened. “What happens in Tevinter?”

He didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally she spoke.

“If you lived there, you would not doubt that the Chant’s tales of the Black City are no allegory,” she said and turned to face him. “You would be a slave, Leto- like all elves.” His lips parted. “And now I assist a mage of my own free will.”

He didn’t try to talk to her again, but he stayed when she poured wine and accepted the glass she offered.

XX

The Chantry was different at night.

All of Kirkwall was; besides the gangs that plagued the streets the shadows seemed more sinister, the dark corners foreboding. Leto had lived in Kirkwall all his life and never ceased to be unnerved by the dark.

Meavem navigated it with ease, and he had the distinct feeling that much of her freedom was spent in the dark. Her shoulders were still knotted with tension but there was nothing Leto could do to help her.

“You’d think someone who glows would be easier to find in the dark,” Varric complained when she vanished on them and reappeared suddenly at his side. Leto could barely see her strained smile.

“So would Danarius,” she said. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Anders was waiting by the door, staff in hand. Meavem’s eyes slid over it (and him).

“I saw him go inside,” Anders said to Leto, voice low. “No one followed him.”

“Then let’s go.”

Anders led the way, closely followed by Leto. Meavem and Varric followed Leto.

XX

The man was clearly a mage. His robes marked him as such, even from behind.

“Anders,” he said, voice flat and Anders visibly frowned at it. “I knew you would come.”

“Karl, what…” Karl turned around and a sunburst was branded upon his forehead. “ _No_ ,” he cried. “How could they?” Leto could have sworn he was looking at his sister for a moment- he had feared all his life that they’d make her Tranquil. Meavem stared between Anders and Leto, and Leto wondered what expression he was making for her to have such concern in her eyes.

“I was troublesome,” Karl said, voice just as flat as before. “They had to discipline me. You will understand, Anders.” His voice rose. “This is the apostate.”

Footsteps emerged from the shadows; Templars. Meavem’s daggers leapt into her hands and she dropped into a crouch. Leto gripped his sword. There was no way to explain this, he thought.

It only got worse when Anders entire body lit up with an otherworldly blue glow and he charged at the Templars. Despite her distaste for him Meavem quickly followed him into the fray, intercepting a blade that would have left a nasty cut on his back as the lyrium in her veins lit up and Leto had no more time to think just how bad a situation this was.

XX

The Templars were dead.

The four of them stared at the carnage- blood on the walls and over the books. Leto grimaced. He had struggles with the Chantry but that didn’t mean he wanted to fight in it. They were silent until a deep rasping breath interrupted them and a voice asked “Anders?”

It was the mage Karl, but he sounded different- horrified and relieved.

“Anders, what did you do?” he asked, staring wide-eyed at the still-glowing Anders.

“Good question,” Varric muttered. The ethereal glow instantly vanished as Anders ran over to his friend.

“Karl!” he cried out. “I’m so sorry…”

“I can feel the Fade again,” Karl said, “Anders, it’s so horrible, they- you can’t feel-” his eyes went wide with panic and Leto turned to see Meavem looking aghast.

“Meavem?” he asked quietly and she shook her head.

“It’s fading!” Karl cried in panic. “Anders, you have to… please!”

“Karl, no!” Anders cried. “There has to be a way!” Meavem’s veins lit up and she was in front of Karl, daggers in his chest, in an instant. Leto caught a glimpse of the stark relief in his eyes.

“Die free,” she murmured as she lowered him gently to the ground and pulled her daggers out.

“Thank you,” Karl said before his chest stilled. Meavem closed his eyes and rose to meet a furious Anders’ gaze.

“Why did you do that? You killed him!” he cried, staff in hand. She kept her back straight and her chin high.

“You have never been a slave,” was all she said and stalked away. Leto stared at her and she shook her head as she passed him. Varric looked warily between them.

“Varania said she would rather die than be made Tranquil,” Leto finally said.

“What do _you_ know?” Anders snapped, tears brimming in his eyes, and Leto turned to follow Meavem.

XX

A bitter Anders threw the maps at him when they got back to the clinic after a silent, tense walk and ordered him out; Leto was quick to obey. It was dark but he had to find Meavem. He almost started for Hightown before he passed the Hanged Man and ducked inside.

She was sitting at a table in the back staring at the wall, an untouched drink before her. Leto sat beside her.

“Meavem?” She turned to him bitterly.

“He was a mage,” she said. “But I couldn’t let him die like that.”

“I know,” Leto said. “We got the maps.” He showed them to her. “We can show Varric in the morning. It’s been a long night.”

“Stay with me,” Meavem said and Leto touched her arm. She was just as tense as she’d been before but didn’t reject his touch. “Please.”

“Of course,” he said.

XX

Neither of them drank much and the walk to the Alienage was a quick one, the Doglords having learned to stay away from them. Leto unlocked his door and when Meavem made for the corner shook his head, gestured towards the bed. She changed course mutely and he lay next to her, held her hand after a brief hesitation. She permitted the touch, threaded her fingers though his.

He could barely hear her “thank you” as he went to sleep.

XX

The next morning things seemed better. Meavem woke with less tension in her muscles and her smile on seeing Leto was genuine. He couldn’t help the flush that came over his cheeks at the sight of it and averted his eyes. Her smile turned teasing.

Someone knocked on the door and he hurried to get it, stopping dead when he saw Anders standing on the other side. The mage cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I asked around. People told me you lived here. So, those maps,” he said. “You said you were on an expedition.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I’d really rather not go back down there but I owe you…” he caught sight of Meavem and broke off. She was glaring at him. “You’re not a mage.” His eyes were searching. Meavem bared her teeth but said nothing. Leto was about to interject when Anders continued. “Being Tranquil is terrible. I’d… rather he be spared living like that.” Meavem’s face shifted from anger to shock for a bare instant before it smoothed out but both men noticed it. Anders turned his attention back to Leto.

“If you need my help, well, I’m available.”

“Thanks,” Leto said and closed the door. He turned back to Meavem. “Did you want to… rest for the day, or…”

“I need to do something,” she said. She held his gaze. “I’m fine, Leto.” He didn’t believe her- the tension in her shoulders said otherwise- but he nodded.

“Then we find Varric.” Meavem knelt to check her boot dagger was still in place and looked up at Leto, an expression he couldn’t decipher in her eyes. Uncertainty, fear perhaps, curiosity? He waited for her to speak.

“We should go,” she finally said. He remembered her plea for him to stay with her, her very, very soft ‘thank you’ and wondered how much they had cost her.

“You’re welcome to come by whenever you need to,” he said and the corner of her lips turned up in a very slight smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Just because I like knowing how things happen even if they don't affect the story- here's how the Hawke family ended up in Tevinter and how she came to be Danarius's slave.
> 
> Hawke and family went to Tevinter when Bethany showed signs of magic at three to Malcolm's dismay; Hawke was twelve at the time.
> 
> The family was taken into slavery but kept together. The magister who owned them trained some slaves as guards and Hawke, already learning daggers, was allowed to continue training. They're treated well and Bethany was trained in her magic.
> 
> When Hawke was nineteen Danarius’s contest was announced and she won the right to compete on the magister’s behalf against her father's wishes; she won and used her boon to free her family, who returned to Ferelden and settled in Lothering.
> 
> Carver took over leadership of the family after Malcolm died, determined to keep his remaining sister safe.


End file.
